False Alarms and other stuff

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The every-other-day dose of Prednisone turned out to be a bust.  Tony immediately became constipated (probably from the combination of his low-residue diet and drinking less water), which is a problem he's had off and on for years, so I gave him a stool softener.  I didn't worry much about that, but it seemed to me that the swellings on his face were coming back up.  I called Dr. Kroll and asked if we could go back to a daily dose.  As she pointed out, normally extending that drug would be a bad idea because of the side effects of long-term use.  However, in Tony's case, long term is not an issue.  She agreed that he should go back to one a day for a couple of weeks, and then we'll switch to half a pill every day rather than skipping every other day.

An aside:  I am getting the most hilarious photos from my Zemanta feed, all apparently based on my use of the words "constipation" and "stool," including one that is of the "Bristol Stool Chart."  It is a series of photos of . . . you guessed it, with comments.  The description reads "Kyle Thompson, self made.  Stool images and text made into document in OpenOffice."  It's the "self made" that cracked me up.  No, I am not going to include the picture here.  Ick.

 So, on Thursday, he had his Prednisone and other pills, which he took eagerly (crushed and mixed into peanut butter), but he didn't want his breakfast.  I took him outside in case he just wanted to "empty his tanks" before he ate, and when he came back in I noticed there was a leaf caught in his tail.  I lifted the tail to pick off the leaf, and -- I am not exaggerating here -- I leapt back in horror.  There was an enormous (about the size of a medium-grade chicken egg; on an 8 pound dog, that's enormous) swelling just to the right of his rectum.

Well, you can imagine what I thought.  This was the end:  the swelling/mass was big enough to cause serious problems for him when he needed to empty that particular tank (it's funny that I considered using 5 other words before settling on that euphemism).  It was tender, too:  he wouldn't let me touch it, not even to clean him up.  As far as I could tell, it looked like his quality of life was about to be destroyed.  Or so it seemed to me.  I called the vet; she was scrubbing for surgery, so I made an appointment for 2PM.  I had conferences with students scheduled from 11AM to 12:15, and I decided not to cancel.  As it turned out, that was a good idea.  I had some trouble concentrating on their issues with syntax and punctuation, but it mostly kept my mind off of the possible outcome --the only one I could imagine, probably because it was the worst.  However, when we went into the examining room, she suggested that it might be a problem with his anal gland.  Apparently infections there can erupt in a hurry, which would explain how he could have such a huge swelling appear overnight.  She took him off into the mysterious depths of the clinic, for which I was grateful.  I had been steeling myself for being with him at the end, but this particular "end" was not something I needed to see.  I used the time to try to adjust to this unexpected turn of events. 

After a few minutes, I heard Tony shriek; less than 30 seconds later, Dr. Kroll appeared.  She was even more certain that it was the anal gland, but Tony was in pain and so upset that they would need to sedate him a bit before they could treat him.  I went off and left them to it.  As I was driving around, my emotions in the spin cycle, I realized that this kind of thing will probably be happening from now on.  In all my efforts to boost his immune system, I was fighting not only his cancer but also his medication:  Prednisone has a negative effect on the immune system, as do antibiotics, and Tony was now going on Clavamox again.  His system has to handle all of that plus the raging infection in his butt.  And that may not be all -- the swelling was so bad that even after it ruptured, which gave Tony a bit of relief, she couldn't tell if there was a mass that might be the lymphoma spreading.  There are nodes right there, too. 

So we have a temporary reprieve, and I'll just be thankful for however long it lasts as I apply warm compresses to his rear end 3 times a day. I am surprised daily by what I am willing to do for him.

It's been a month since the biopsy

Well, it's actually a month and a day since the biopsy, but it seems like a good time to take stock of where we stand.  Yesterday was the next "step-down" point on Tony's Prednisone prescription, so he didn't get a pill.  He'll get one today and every other day from now on.  The nodes in his neck seem a bit smaller to me, as does the swelling in his face, but there's a lump on his back that he's had for years (a fluid-filled cyst; it became hard about a month ago) that hasn't gone back to being soft.

He seems to have adjusted well to the Prednisone -- finally -- and his eating and drinking have levelled off a bit, for which I am grateful.  One funny effect we noticed is that with the salmon and vegetable diet he's been on, his urine has a strong fish odor.  If it weren't fall, we wouldn't have known, but since Tony's firm belief has always been that if the patio is covered with leaves or snow, it's just as good as grass, we're up close and personal with the smell every time we let him out.  I had to hose the patio down a couple days ago; it was that bad.
 
The temperature change that came along with all those fallen leaves is not something he is enjoying, which is too bad.  He's always been a cold weather lover, but with his coat as sparse as it is now, it's already too cold.  He's been coming right in as soon as he takes care of what made him go out.  If the sun is shining, he sometimes will sit in it for a bit, though.  I don't think he's going to be playing in the snow this winter the way he used to, but I think (knock wood) that he will get to see the snow.  I wasn't too sure of that until recently.

His behavior is what makes me think that he'll still be with us for a while.  He's acting more and more like his old self, dominating the big dogs, watching what everyone's doing (despite his cataracts), and barking at noises only he can hear.  I'm glad to see all of this, and even gladder that he's been sleeping somewhat better at night; I've actually gotten 5 hours uninterrupted the past two nights.  Many people might think that's awful, but to me it's almost like getting a vacation.

Tomorrow is Tony's 13th birthday.  I have no idea what to do to celebrate it, but some kind of celebration is clearly in order.